9.21.2014

They
can be declarative and straightforward (“The Great Gatsby,” “Robinson Crusoe”),
telling you who they are about right away. They can introduce new concepts
(“Catch-22,” “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”) that then make
their way into the modern lexicon. Or they can be obscure and contemplative
(“1984,” “A Tale of Two Cities”), forcing you to read the whole book to know
what they refer to.

So
when I encountered a wine labeled Worthy, I just had to ask: Is it? At least
when it comes to the 2008 Worthy Sophia’s Cuvée by Axios Napa Valley, the
answer is an emphatic and resounding, “Yes.”

The
2008 is a Bordeaux blend of 75 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, 9 percent Petite
Verdot, 8 percent Cabernet Franc, and 8 percent Malbec, though all the grapes
are sourced from Napa Valley, California. At 14 percent alcohol, it has a
pleasant black currant and blackberry nose and flavor and a smooth yet slightly
uneven texture that enables it to seep, nimbly, throughout the crevices of your
mouth and tongue. Worthy is unusual because it allows you to accept two
mutually contradictory and correct characteristics at the same time. I’ll say
it again: This wine is worth doubling up on. $28.59. Winetree East.

Why
is a wine from California proud to call itself a Bordeaux blend? That’s a topic
worth many subtitles. The simple answer is that the 2008 Worthy is made of
grapes that are grown in California but that also happen to be grown in the
Bordeaux region of France. But I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that many
American wine companies also use the term because it brings them a certain
level of prestige.

Yet
is there a downside to associating with Bordeaux? I’m half-French, so I think I
can answer this question somewhat confidently: Maybe, depending on what you
value, want, or think is important.

Wines
made in Bordeaux, a region in the southwestern portion of France, have a
reputation for being expensive and of high quality. That’s the salesperson’s
reason to add the title to the label. Yet not many people know that, for years,
winemakers in Bordeaux regularly added excess sugar before or during the
fermentation process in order to raise the levels of alcohol in their finished
wines.

According
to Wine Spectator, chaptalization is an age-old winemaking practice named for
Napoleon’s Minister of Agriculture, Jean-Antoine Chaptal, who helped popularize
the practice — though it existed long before it was given a name. Even the
Romans chaptalized their wines, leading me to conclude that some things can
become standard practice without being named at all.

You
don’t need to chaptalize to make wine. Fermentation naturally creates alcohol;
yeast metabolizes the sugar in grapes to form ethyl alcohol and carbon dioxide.
But if the grapes are unripe, or if they bring too little sugar to the process,
it can be harder for the wine to succeed on its own. Chaptalization, then, is a
crutch when it appears there’s no other option. It helps a wine build body and
depth. It also allows the fruit to convey more richness and makes it seem
sweeter.

Chaptalization
is legal in some areas and illegal in others. In cooler places like Bordeaux,
where it’s harder for grapes to fully ripen, the practice is allowed, though
there are restrictions on the amount of sugar that can be added to the original
product. Chaptalization is illegal in California and Italy — but some
winemakers do it anyway.

In
1989, for instance, the combination of large, slow-ripening crops, cool weather
and harvest rains in California meant the grapes had very low sugar contents.
“Some of us indulged in (chaptalization) to make something decent from a rough
vintage,” a prominent Napa winemaker told Wine Spectator in April 2003.

Just
adding 116 pounds of sugar to a 700-gallon vat of red wine, for instance, will
raise the alcohol level by one degree. This dependable scientific formula
likely enhances chaptalization’s allure. Why work hard to style a wine on your
own terms when an easy formula can always save the day?

Yet
Wine Spectator cautions against taking the easy way out.

Quality
winemakers recognize that chaptalization will never transform poor grapes into
good wine. Used judiciously (and I would hope legally), it's a tool that allows
vintners to achieve the style and balance they desire, the magazine said. In
fact, over-chaptalized wines are unbalanced and boozy, and wines without enough
fruit concentration can make the alcohol seem excessive.

“Sugar
is one thing and maturity is another," said Michel Niellon, owner and
winemaker of Domaine Niellon, a top producer in Chassagne-Montrachet.
"Sugar doesn't replace maturity, it doesn't give perfume or ripe
fruit."So
what’s the downside of being associated with Bordeaux? That’s hard to say, but
I can tell you there’s no shortcut to figuring out what’s best for you in the
long run. Above all, keep in mind that titles are just one part of a wine;
subtitles matter, too.

9.07.2014

Sept. 7, 2014: There’s
no better way to fuse art and science than with metaphor. As a bridge, it
connects what can’t seem to meet, and when conflict is afoot, it’s honesty,
hidden by a veil.

Metaphor,
after all, is cunning, when it wants to be; well placed, when it needs to be;
and hasty, when it appears there’s no other option. It’s the deliberate jab in
a crowded, leering room, or the even tone that traverses borders, speaking,
carefully, to two opposing audiences at the same time.

Wine
can be just as effective. Merely a glass of alcohol to some, to others, it’s
wit’s right-hand man, or arrogance’s Achilles’ heel. It can look like Cupid’s
arrow, or merely steady the hand that yearns for it. It loosens lips and
lightens pocketbooks, both eases and magnifies tensions. It can be used to
shield and slice, confound and clarify, honor and defy.

So
what is this substance that science gives us to sniff, taste and feel? The U.S.
Government Printing Office defines wine by the process used to make it.
Fermentation of grapes plus aging plus bottling, then, offers us what the
Printing Office also says must be within a range of 7 to 24 percent of alcohol
by volume.

Port,
Sherry, and Madeira are the chiseled fixtures, clocking in at somewhere between
17 and 21 percent alcohol. They are so deftly fortified that, year after year,
the very same bottles can bring stature to even the most unacclaimed shelf.

Then
there are the Moscato d’Astis. At somewhere between 5 to 6.5 percent, they
don’t even register on the government’s scale. I’ll shunt them into the “wine
is defined by the process used to make it” category.

Finally,
we arrive at dealcoholized wines. They contain less than one-half of a percent
of alcohol and are perfect for those who don’t like or can’t abide the effects
of fermented grapes. Something to sip at a party or at a dinner table, they’re
the innocuous disguise, the mask that allows you to blend in without being
conspicuously contrary.

The
2011 Fre Premium Red alcohol-removed wine has a convincing crimson color and a
cherry nose and flavor. This substance, which sells for $7.99 at Winetree East,
is tart yet sweet, smooth and substantial, an easy, harmless pour into your
glass. Yet as disguises go, it’s not the wine that I find most fascinating.
It’s the marketing.

Fre
is proud to throw away what certain circles believe makes other wines so
valuable. Instead of embracing alcohol, Fre touts its lack of it; instead of
highlighting the talent of the winemaker, it flaunts mechanics. In short, what
most regard as gold, as artistry, it tosses off as mere gold dust, as routine.
It does everything it can to look, taste and smell like real wine and yet not
be real at all.

Here’s
how companies like these use science to place their products on the shelf. One
involves a messenger. The other requires a spin machine. Since both processes
are applied within the complicated worlds of biology, chemistry and (in the
case of the messenger) medicine, I’ll eat this elephant one bite at a time.

The
first method extracts alcohol using reverse osmosis and replaces it with water.

Have
I lost you? OK, I’ll return to metaphor. Basically, osmosis is chemistry’s
version of a trade, of an exchange of information. If osmosis allows a
substance to move from point A to point B, then reverse osmosis allows a substance
to move from point B to point A. This transfer can’t happen on its own. For
osmosis to work, it needs a semi-permeable membrane. This is something that
allows certain things to come in (or out) while keeping other things out (or
in). The membrane is a messenger that enables and encourages an organized
collection of leaks.

The
second method feeds the wine into the top of a spinning cone column. This
dizzyingly rapid, repetitive cycle is so effective it transforms the liquid
into a thin film. Nitrogen gas extracts the wine’s delicate aromas and flavors.
The remaining liquid is shoved through the spinning cone column once again,
this time at a higher temperature. This removes the alcohol. It’s at this
point, from what I understand, that everything comes together. Once it’s been
spun, dismantled, spun again, and then separated from what made it wine in the
first place, the flavors and aroma essences are recombined with the
dealcoholized wine and unfermented varietal grape juice.

I
have nothing against dealcoholized wine. However, it sure does seem like a
long, convoluted process to create what is essentially grape juice.

But
that’s how Fre likes it. After all, alcohol isn’t its disguise; honesty is. And
sometimes that’s the best veil of all.

writers:

this column runs as "bottle by bottle" in the evansville courier and press twice or so a month. the focus is on wines, food and how they intersect. if i receive gifts, i'll tell you. photo credits are noted. i buy most of my wines from winetree, varsity liquors, schnucks, the fresh market, kwik liquor and winestyles (in evansville, ind.); big red liquors and sahara mart (in bloomington, ind.); vecchio's italian market (in newburgh, ind.); whole foods (in st. louis); and binny's (in chicago.) also, i do try a number of wines that i don't necessarily mention in the column, through travels to france and other markets (germany, hungary, italy, etc.) that don't sell wines i can find here. those experiences factor into my tasting descriptions, even if i don't mention them in the column, so keep all that in mind. i write the column to tell my readers in the evansville, ind., area what i consider to be flavorful, balanced and good-value wines for sale in this area.